The Feeling of Gasoline
by SomethingAboutAllison
Summary: Let it burn. Angsty Ally Dawson one-shot. Some Auslly. Depressing.


**A/N: This is slightly AU because they don't live in Miami, they live in Ohio. Why you ask? I felt there needed to be snow. Everything is better with snow. Anyways, enjoy.**

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I take a deep breath and walk over to my closet. It's the day of the winter formal dance at Marino High School, and I'm going with my best friend Austin. My hair is curled perfectly, my makeup looks amazing, and I'm ready to slip into my dress. I take the hanger off the rod and slip the garment bag off.

The dress is beautiful. It's a dark teal color with a tiered skirt and a tight-fitting bodice that dips slightly into a sweetheart neckline. Thin blue straps hold it in place, even though it already fits me like a glove. Delicate lace and just a few sequins give the dress texture and sparkle. It flares below the waist and flows right around my knees. I love the dress, I really do. It's perfect.

I carefully get undressed, making sure I don't ruin my hair or makeup. I slip the dress on and zip it up. A perfect fit. I look into the mirror and smile. My eye catches a picture of my mom. I take out my camera and take a picture of myself in the mirror, just for her. I know she'd want to see me, her little girl, all grown up and going to winter formal.

I put my black kitten heels on and walk downstairs. My dad is waiting at the bottom, snapping pictures and beaming. I grin. "Must you, Dad?" I ask jokingly. He gives me a serious look. "Of course I must, that's what dads do!" he says before giving me a hug and kissing my forehead. "You look beautiful, sweetheart," he says.

I smile. "I'm gonna wait for Austin," I say, and he nods with approval before going upstairs. I go to the living room and sit in front of the bay window, watching the cars pass and the snow fall gently. I sit there for about five minutes before I get the idea to call him, just to make sure he's on time and everything. I dial his number and he picks up.

"Hello?" he says. I hear voices in the background of the phone call.

"Hey Austin, just wondering when you were gonna be here to pick me up," I say cheerfully. He doesn't respond for a second.

"Look, Ally, I'm sorry. But I'm taking Brooke to the dance. Sorry," he says. And he hangs up.

I freeze.

He stood me up. He fucking stood me up! My best friend bailed on me for some girl he hardly knows.

I don't know what to do, so I get up. I run to the garage and grab a box of matches and a can of gasoline. And I run outside to the backyard.

I throw my heels off and walk barefoot through the freezing snow. I walk out to the middle of the backyard, then tear my dress off. I don't care that it's freezing, I don't care that people might see me, and I don't care that I'm half naked outside in the middle of January. I don't care.

I lay the dress down on top of the fresh layer of snow. It's so pretty and delicate, but I hate it. It represents that Austin broke my trust. Stood me up. So I want it gone.

I pour gasoline carefully over the lacy fabric. When I'm satisfied with it, I set the can of gasoline aside and take out the matches. I light one and throw it at the dress, but it extinguishes before it can light the dress on fire. I yell out of frustration and try again with another match.

This time, it works.

Suddenly the dress is ablaze, the fire so powerful that I have to take a step back. But I love watching it.

I love the feeling of gasoline. It's so fragile and easy to burn. It helps to destroy. I'm overwhelmed by the smell and the heat and the image of the dress, twisting and contorting, the fibers melting, all the dress stands for disappearing.

I'm there when the fire goes out, and I'm just standing there. Just me. I kneel down in the snow next to the remains of the dress. Tears stream down my face and I remember why I'm here in the first place. Because Austin stood me up.

And suddenly I'm not happy with the work I've done, because burning the dress doesn't help. It doesn't make Austin care about me. It doesn't fix anything. And I don't like the feeling of gasoline. Because it sets things ablaze so fast, but they're gone just as quickly. And when the fire goes out, there's nothing to show for it. Because fire doesn't fix things. Destroying a dress doesn't fix things. So I take some snow in my hands and shamefully bury the ashes that used to be my dress. And it still doesn't fix anything.

I have no idea what to do next, so I lay down. I lay down, my raw, bare skin turning red as the freezing snow and ice encases me. My dad comes out yelling, but I can't hear him. He picks me up and carries me inside. He lays me down on the couch and wraps me up in a blanket.

And I feel it.

I feel the dress decaying, the meaning dissipating, and the sting from Austin standing me up starting to fade. Because I don't need winter formal and teal dresses.

And I feel it.

Because it's not the feeling of the gasoline that fixes you. It's the feeling once the flames go out and you realize it's over and done with. It's when you know it's fine.

And the feeling of ashes is what fixes you.


End file.
